


moonlight and fire

by mellowly



Series: lietpol week 2018 [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Campfires, Camping, Character Study, Introspection, M/M, Mythology References, Nature, Vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 12:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowly/pseuds/mellowly
Summary: lithuania watches the campfire.poland pulls him into a dance.(or: how to re-discover yourself.)





	moonlight and fire

**Author's Note:**

> written for lietpol week! prompt was: nature.

**somewhere in lithuania, summer, 1992**

* * *

 

They've lit a fire, and Lithuania stares into the flames. Sometimes he tells himself he can still see the dancing goddess in there, but-

She's invisible to him now. Only the crackling embers remind him of a time that once was.

A time of amber around his wrists, fur on his back, hair braided and eyes to the sky, a time of gold and secret things deep in the forest, of howling wolves and the green earth around him beating with his pulse. A time of solitude, yet companionship in all that grew beneath his feet. It's so very long ago. Here he is, in a knitted jumper by the fire, old and tired. Grey.

Not alone, he adds wryly. _Not alone._

Poland has set the radio down by the rock. He's dancing to the music - a swelling classical something on full volume, sparking and crackling like the fire reflected in his eyes. His arms are pale and bare - he's wearing just a white cotton dress, freshly bathed in the lake.   
Lithuania had watched him slide into the water like a spectre beneath the moon, pale and glistening when he pulled himself onto a rock, playing merman in the depths and fetching Lithuania a bright water lily.

His hair is drying slowly, the fabric still clinging to his damp skin. It's picturesque.

Lithuania claps to his dance, and he wants to sing but the words are ancient and faded in his mind; he could summon them if he tried, but now he would rather watch his lover through the flickering flames, the presence of the forest behind him like a reassuring hand on his back. 

He used to be one with the earth, this rock, the trees that now whisper to him, softly: _you are still a part of us._

_Do not forget from whence you came._

Lithuania breathes. In and out; and he stands, shedding his jumper to join Poland's wild dance by the shore.   
The moonlight bathes them in silver; the fire outlines them in gold.  
He's welcomed with open arms and a feather-light kiss. Poland smells like nature itself, damp and warm and _alive_ in his embrace.

_Do not forget._


End file.
